"Kira," Grayson said, a cautionary tone in his voice, but his expression unchanging. "You don't need to fight my battles. Let me speak to your father alone, please."

I grabbed his arm. "Grayson, you don't know what he's—"

"I think that's a good idea," my father said. The smile he shot in my direction looked as flimsy as his campaign promises.

Grayson made eye contact with me. "I can handle myself, little witch." His voice became tender. "Go back to the party, please."

I let out a frustrated breath, glaring at my father for a moment and then meeting Grayson's eyes again. My heart dropped, a feeling of dread settling in my stomach. What was going to happen now? "Fine." I acquiesced, not knowing what else to do. I walked out of the room, grasping my hands in fists to keep the shaking to a minimum.

**********

The moon cast a golden glow from above and feathery fingers of mist encircled my feet from below. I sat on the bench next to the hedge maze, the one I'd sat on with Shane, what seemed so long ago, but in reality had only been a week. I removed my gloves and then the pins holding on my hat, and sat them both on the bench next to me, using my fingers to lift my hair off my scalp.

The dread I'd felt in Grayson's office had settled into a lonely lump of cold fear. I could barely attempt to name the many worries that swirled in my gut at the thought of my father and Grayson conversing alone. Why was my father here and what could he possibly want? What did he know? It hadn't sounded like he remembered Grayson . . . even though he'd obviously looked him up. What would he attempt to control now? Would I ever be free of him?

When I heard footsteps approaching, I stood, turning in time to see Grayson appear around the curve in the path. He'd removed his mask. I let out a breath, feeling a flare of panic.

"What happened?" I asked. He gave me a small smile.

"Your father offered me a whole hell of a lot of money to walk away from you permanently, even more than what your grandmother left in trust."

The lump, previously in my throat, dropped to my stomach. I exhaled a sharp breath and turned away, wrapping my arms around myself. Well, the good news was he evidently believed our marriage was real. "Is he gone?"

"Yes."

"You should take it," I said. "We're divorcing anyway. He doesn't have to know it was already planned." I tried to sound sincere. I only hoped the scratchiness of my voice didn't entirely betray me.

"You're shaking," he said.

"Am I?" I rubbed my hands down my arms. "It's a little chilly, I guess . . ."

His hands replaced mine, rubbing down my bare arms. They were warm and solid on my skin. "Kira," Grayson whispered. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. I'm your husband—it's my job to take care of you now. I don't want his money. I told him as much. And I don't want to walk away. I was hoping you understood that tonight."

"You . . . you don't?" I found my voice and turned back to him.

He smoothed a piece of hair back behind my shoulder. "No, sweet, beautiful witch. I don't. I realize it might be difficult to take a man seriously who's dressed in a dragon costume, but . . ."

I laughed softly. "That's the reason I'm taking you seriously."

He smiled. "Good, because I was hoping . . . well, I was hoping we could give this marriage a real try. I was hoping you'd agree to be mine . . . for real. My wife, my lover, my friend." Vulnerability was etched in the hopeful set of his features, in those deep, dark eyes, and my heart leapt with joy.

"Make our marriage real?" I breathed.

"Yes."

I wanted that, too, so much I almost didn't dare hope, and yet there was still so much unresolved between us . . .

"What about Vanessa?" I asked, looking down.

He exhaled a breath. "I never loved Vanessa, Kira. Or if I did, it wasn't the right kind of love. I know that now. Vanessa was meant for Shane. I know because I understand what it feels like when a woman is meant for a man, the way you're meant for me."

"Gray," I murmured, leaning into his hand when he brushed it along my cheek.

"We all talked this week. Vanessa and I were never destined to be married. We were friends. And, Kira? We never . . . well, we never slept together either. I . . . knew. I knew I didn't love her, and that she didn't love me." I let out a deep breath. Hearing those words alone brought me peace. He smiled then. Gorgeous dragon. "I told them about us—told them I was going to try to convince you to give me a chance. It's like a weight has been lifted from all of our shoulders. And I have my brother back."

I studied his face, understanding the peace in his eyes.

"I'm sorry about that stupid ring. I . . ." He pursed his lips as if choosing his words. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just didn't think about it, and when I found that ring, I figured it'd do well enough as a prop. I'm sorry that's what it was at the time. If I was choosing jewels for you, I'd choose something entirely different . . . emeralds for your eyes perhaps," he ended on a whisper. "Nothing as colorless as diamonds or opals. Not for you."

I felt like I was in a dream. But I had spent a week talking myself out of this, so filled with fear of rejection and the instinct to run. "Will this work? We've done this all backward. I'm your wife."

He chuckled softly. "Yes, you are. My enchanting wife." His eyes roamed over my face as his expression became serious, filled with need. "Just tell me you want me too, Kira."